Of Closets and Cupboards
by Miss Count Duckula
Summary: You've probably never heard of me. My name is Timothy Jackson. I'm 17, and Harry is my best friend. I'm not your average teen, and this is the story of how I changed Hogwarts for good....


Of Closets and Cupboards

AN: As anyone who bothered looking at the author Icon in the upper-left hand corner no doubt knows, this is my first fic. As such, I acknowledge I have a long way to go in writing. I am human, and as such am fallible. Also, this story will take place in '09, for my personal ease and enjoyment.

Warnings: language, and some mild innuendo and themes. This is PG-13 people, I will treat it as such. And slash.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Potterverse. I own only Tim. And the Plot.

Now, On with the story!

Chapter 1

You've probably never heard of me. Most people haven't. My name is Timothy Jackson. I'm 5'9", blonde hair, and pale green eyes. Until now, I've been home-schooled by my Dad. This is the story of how I changed Hogwarts. For the better, I hope.

"Harry, there is no way I can do this, he's gonna _freak_."

"Tim, if you don't fucking tell him, I'll tell everyone about the time you were kicked out of the mall 'cuz you walked into the Girl's restroom, because "Skirts are more _fun_ to wear".

"….."

Damn, he was smirking. Meaning he knew he had me. Guess I was stuck telling him.

"Fine! I'll fucking tell him! Happy Now?"

"Ecstatic." You could _taste_ the sarcasm. "Shit, I gotta get home, else I'll be locked up or out again." And so we walked our separate ways.

………………………………...........................................................................

I arrived at home to the sound of gently clinking dishes. Good, Mopsy had cooked dinner. Maybe he won't be **furious** when I tell him.

"Hey, Dad? We need to talk." Shit. The worst string of words to ever be put together.

"What did you break this time Timmy? You didn't get in trouble with the police, did you?"

"What! Dad, I was like, 14! No, this is serious. I don't know how to say this, but, I'm gay."

"Get out. Just get out of my house. You're going to Hogwarts. I will NOT have a queer in my house."

Grabbing the bag I stowed near the front door for just such occasions, I stormed out the door.

………………………………...........................................................................

Heading towards the local park, I lit a cigarette. Damn, did I need one. Once I was at the park, I made my way toward the slide, the safest-and comfiest- place to settle down for some much-needed sleep.

Now you may be wondering what I was doing smoking, sleeping in parks, and talking to Harry Potter, it's simple. I'm a teenager, I'm a teenager, and he's my best friend.

Platform 9 ¾, Kings Cross Station, London, England

"Man, whoever invented Magictricity, has totally got my vote. What would I do without my cell, and iPod! Damn, Harry, you gotta be at least a demi-god. Didya know some weird muggle-born seer wrote this series about you in another universe?

"What the Fuck?!"

Disregarding him, I said "Eh, lets get on the train. We got some serious rock to play"

"You never cease to amaze me Tim." _Wow_, such a compliment!

They _cannot_ seriously expect me to sit in this thing for like, 8 hours!

15 min. later……..

'I cannot believe I am doing this. "Ray, I think I developed train phobia. Seriously, these things can happen. I could sue for this. I'm totally-

"I heard that there's a new boy sitting in this compartment who was home schooled. Maybe _you'll_ be intelligent. Not that you'll have anything on _me_, of course."

'Wow. Total anal-retentive bookworm.' "Enchantee, Hermione. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

DING-DONG

And saved by the bell, literally.

………………………………...........................................................................

"Tim, come here. Let's take the carriages so you can bypass the whole "I'm a tiny 11-year-old, so I have to take a boat to Hogwarts" thing. I still totally can't believe she didn't notice me."

"Totally. Is she always so AR though? Like, total bitch." we continued like that for the rest of the trip. Then a tall, strict lady said "Timothy Jackson" and gestured for me to follow. I told Harry "Later", and went inside.

Mr. Jackson, my name is Professor Minerva McGonagall. Please wait outside the Great Hall until your name is called for the sorting."

I waited outside the doors for what seemed like an eternity, the silence being broken only by loud cheering. Finally, I heard "Jackson, Timothy" and opened the doors.

Okay, theres the first chapter. The second is almost done, so it should be up in a few days. Later, Duckie.


End file.
